The Lion and the Wolf
by Knight Commander Pask
Summary: Robert dies before he can complete his Rebellion. King Eddard I of House Stark finds himself marrying Cersei of House Lannister. How will both nobles and commoners alike fare under King Eddard's rule?
1. Cersei I

Disclaimer: All characters and locations featured in this text are properties of George R.R. Martin.

What if Robert Baratheon had died in his rebellion and Eddard Stark had ascended to the throne? This aims to follow a multitude of characters from around King's Landing during the time of Eddard's rule. Catelyn Tully will be disregarded in this fanfiction. Rated M for Sexual Content and Gore in later chapters. This is my very first Fan-Fiction. Enjoy!

King Eddard I of House Stark, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men and Protector of the Realm sat proudly atop the Iron Throne.

'This will be the only court I attend as a Lady and not a Queen.'

Cersei Lannister sat in a well-furnished gallery to the left of the Iron Throne, trying to edge around a tall Lord in front of her to catch a glimpse of her future husband. Eddard had insisted on holding court just two days after the bloodshed had ended.

Heralds announced the hundreds of decrees that the new King had dictated, stripping former loyalists of lands and installing new lords and noblemen to positions of power. Cersei was born to play politics and attend courts, but even she was slowly becoming bored. By what right should a Lioness listen to the bleating of insignificant sheep? Why should she care who the new lord of Duskendale was?

Eventually the court was declared ended, and well-dressed nobles from across the Seven Kingdoms began pouring out of the hall in great swarms.

'Soon I shall rule over all of them.'

Cersei joined the human tide and had started down a massive marble staircase when she was confronted by King Eddard.

"My Lady. You look most beautiful today."

Eddard smiled and lightly kissed Cersei's fingers. She curtsied and nodded slightly in courteous return.

"It is a pleasure to see you, Your Highness."

"Would you walk with me? I would wish to speak with you on regarding some matters of import."

"I would gladly walk with you, Your Highness."

Dismissing his guards, the King took her by the hand gently and escorted her out into one of the many lush gardens that thrived within the Red Keep's high walls.

'He is so gallant and polite. He will make a fine husband.'

"I want you to be frank and honest with me, Cersei, how do you feel about our marriage?"

"Marrying you will be the greatest honour I will ever receive, I know that you will be both a great ruler and husband, Your Highness."

"I hope that I can bring both you and the realm many great happinesses, fair Cersei, and you may call me Ned."

Ned gave her another warm smile. It was ironic that this chilly, grim man of the North could smile so warmly and amiably. Cersei replied with her own sweet yet dangerous smile.

"I am glad that we both feel passionate towards each other. I look forward to our wedding on the morrow."

"May the Seven look down upon our partnership and bless us eternally."

King Eddard slowed and gave Cersei a puzzled look. She was such a fool. Ned hailed from the North and worshipped the Old Gods. How could she forget that?

"I, I apologise, Your Highness. I didn't mean to offend your faith."

Cersei stared at the ground nervously, cursing herself internally. As the King led her through a serene orchard of apple trees, he turned to comfort her.

"Sweet Cersei, you need not be ashamed of your faith."

Cersei's face slowly regained it's usual innocent expression at Ned's kind words.

The strong wind flapped and whistled through Cersei's golden curls, flailing them about. Ned certainly gave her an overwhelmingly good first impression of him. Gazing absent-mindedly at a rose, she imagined sitting by Eddard's side, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.


	2. Eddard I

Ned stood atop the Dias of the Great Sept of Baelor, awaiting his bride in solemn anticipation. Hundreds of nobles and wealthy merchants had crammed into the massive Sept to spectate his wedding. Eventually, Cersei proudly strode down the carpeted aisle to the Dias at the centre of the Sept. She was dressed in a revealing dress of white and gold, trimmed with Myrish lace. Her hair was tied back with a hair net of sapphires that reflected light from the many stained-glass windows of Baelor's Sept.

'She is so beautiful.'

The High Septon stood between them, holding his Crystal Crown over them.

"Eddard of House Stark, do you take Cersei of House Lannister as your wife?

"I do."

"Will you be eternally kind and faithful to her?"

"I shall."

"Cersei of House Lannister, do you take Eddard of House Stark as your husband?"

"I do."

"Will you be eternally kind and faithful to him?"

"I shall."

"With these oathes exchanged, in the presence of the Seven and blessed Baelor, I do declare King Eddard of House Stark and Queen Cersei of House Lannister husband and wife. You may kiss to show your affection and faithfulness to one another."

Gently gripping Cersei's golden hair, Ned drew their heads together and met Cersei's lips. Her mouth opened for his tongue dutifully, and allowed him to savour the moment before drawing away.

The crowd cheered wildly, and roared and threw rose petals at the couple as they exited the Sept, arm in arm. Behind them came Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime, as close relatives of the bride, and behind them a swarm of other Lannisters of varying fame. Lord Kevan, Ser Stafford, and Ser Martin were the only names that Ned could match to bodies. He would have to learn about his new relatives in greater detail later on. Ned lead the procession to the Throne Room, where hundreds of tables had been set out for the grand feast. Cersei's delicate hand was pale and cold in his own, but, like every other part of her perfect body, was extremely beautiful nonetheless.

Arriving in the Great Hall, Ned politely gestured for his new Queen to take a seat on the great oaken chair cushioned with silk pillow that would be her throne. Cersei gracefully lowered herself onto the chair. He took his seat on the Iron Throne cautiously, avoiding a barb and rusty blade that stuck out to lacerate careless rulers' hands. Noblemen were streaming through the open marble doors at the opposite end of the gigantic hall, chatting and whispering to each other like mice.

When they were all seated, Ned stood up and immediately silenced the hall.

"We shall now receive our wedding gifts. After these proceedings, the feast may begin."

He always spoke in a loud and authoritarian voice that brokered no argument. A king needed one if he aspired to anything above mediocrity.

Tywin Lannister was the first to approach the royal couple. He bowed courteously and smiled at both Cersei and Ned in turn.

"Your Highness, I am pleased to present you with an exquisite crossbow of mine own design."

Tywin passed a finely-crafted crossbow to him. It featured a gold highlight of a Direwolf howling. On the other side, it featured a golden Lion defiantly roaring. He also proudly handed a quiver of long quarrels to him.

"These bolts boast Valyrian Steel heads. They can pierce full plate armour."

Ned muttered his thanks to his father-in-law and called upon the next gift-giver.

After a good hour, every high lord from Dorne to the Vale had given him a gift of varying usefulness. Ned rose once more.

"Lords and Ladies, I thank you all for your most thoughtful gifts, and declare the feast begun!"

The masses cheered as serving girls spilled out of doors bearing trays of sautéed peaches from the Reach and Dornish dates. It had begun.


	3. Cersei II

By the fifteenth course, roasted chicken liver, Cersei dared to eat no more. Each course was accompanied by a fine wine, so she drank more than she ate. She definitely had more of a passion for wine than her royal husband, and was amazed by the variety of brews being offered. The wines in the cavernous cellars of Casterly Rock couldn't dream to compare with those of King's Landing. A minstrel and a man playing a lute pranced onto the stage to present the hall with a lively rendition of The Bear and the Maiden Fair while fools juggled watermelons in the rear of the hall. It was truly a grand wedding.

Cersei felt giddy with joy as the time came for dances. As the married couple, they were granted the honour of dancing alone for the first dance. Ned was a burly man, but proved to be surprisingly flexible and graceful.

'Perhaps, even more graceful than Jaime.'

Her husband spun her about and locked arms with her in perfect timing with the wonderful wafting lute music from above.

'This is the greatest day of my life.'

As the song came to an end, noblemen roared in delight and rushed to join in, grabbing their spouses or serving wenches to begin dancing.

Another good twenty tunes played before everyone could be convinced to return to their seats. Ned leaned over to her slowly.

"Your dance well, sweet Cersei."

Cersei blushed slightly, her face turning a light shade of pink.

"As do you, Ned."

On the stage, a juggler was throwing flaming torches while an illusionist from Volantis swallowed a broadsword whole. It was now time for the thirty-first course, fried crab claws spiced with fiery Dornish peppers. Cersei drank deeply from her goblet of sour red.

As the thirty-ninth and final course, lemon cakes with cream, was consumed, the attendees took up a new cry.

"Bedding! We want the bedding! Bedding! Bed them!"

They cheered drunkenly while bashing their goblets onto the many tables that littered the Throne Room. Cersei had not imagined what it would be like to bed Ned until now.

'He will be gentle, and as sweet as Jaime.'

Her husband was carried off by a mob of Lannister women as she was guided to her new bed chamber by a host of Stark men. They systematically unclothed her while making bawdy jests. She brushed the japes aside.

Cersei arrived in the royal chamber before Ned, and sat on the bed, as naked and bare as her Nameday, anticipating his eventual arrival. She stared down at the great golden shrub between her soft, white thighs. She prayed to all the Seven that her King would find it to his liking. Before long, the great mahogany door creaked open to reveal her husband and King. He slammed the door behind him and smiled while bolting it. His smile was reassuring and comforting. His well-muscled body was entirely exposed as he clambered onto the bed beside her. His cock was quite large and looked almost inviting. It had already gone hard, and he had a look of lust on his face.

Ned leant over and kissed her again. Once more, she parted her lips faithfully and allowed his ravenous tongue to explore her mouth. He didn't part from her for what seemed like an age. He kissed her up and down her neck until she let out a soft moan. Gripping her more tightly, he slowly eased his generously sized cock inside of her wet cunt. Cersei whimpered softly, and began massaging Ned's muscular shoulders vigorously.

They clawed at each other's bodies, panting and moaning, the Lion and the Wolf.

'He feels good inside me. Even better than Jaime.'

He was quick to reach his climax, and soon she could feel his moist seed spurting into her. She clutched her husband even tighter.

"Gods... Ned... Ned..."

She purred both soothingly and seductively, subtly pulling him closer. Their lips joined once more, and Cersei gasped in pleasure as Ned caressed her golden curls. Her perfectly shaped breasts were pressed up against his broad stomach warmly as she moaned again. As he withdrew from her, she sighed contentedly


	4. Tywin I

'And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must so low?'

Tywin Lannister was riding his favourite black destrier, peering across the field at the host of Reynes from Castamere. He turned to his brother, Kevan, the leader of the left flank.

"Signal your men to advance. I want a fully-fledged assualt on their right."

"Very well."

Ser Kevan galloped off, and before long the Golden Lion Banner was advancing towards the Red. Tywin turned to his cousin, Ser Stafford Lannister.

"I want your right to feign a withdrawal. I will come up the centre."

"Consider it done, cousin."

Stafford trotted away, and the right began to slowly retreat. It was time to make his move.

"Tywin?"

Tywin suddenly snapped out of his daydream and turned around to see Kevan calling to him.

"What is the matter?"

"King Eddard has requested your presence at the meeting of the Small Council. "

Tywin was slightly puzzled, as he held no position on the Small Council, but didn't show his bewilderment.

"Very well then."

The two close brothers exchanged idle chatter as they briskly strode to the meeting chamber of the Small Council. Kevan departed as Tywin entered the grand door of the chamber. Flanked by two Valyrian Sphinxes, it made for an imposing sight. King Eddard looked up from a stack of papers and nodded politely at him.

"Lord Tywin."

Tywin bowed fancifully and replied.

"Your Highness. You no doubt have some pressing matters that require my attention?"

"After the execution of our last Master of Laws, a Targaryen Loyalist, we have found ourselves bereft of a Master of Laws. Thus, as a loyal and hard-working servant of the realm, I am pleased to grant you the title of Master of Laws." This was a prestigious office, in fact, he was now second to the Hand of the King in authority. Tywin hid his surprise and delight masterfully.

"I thank you for your faith in my abilities, Your Highness. I shall not fail the realm."

"I know that you shall serve us all faithfully, Lord Tywin."

Tywin spent the rest of the afternoon issuing new laws and edicts, and conversing with various members of the small council. Petyr Baelish, the new Master of Coin was a sly and devious sort, as was Lord Varys, the Lyseni Master of Whisperers that Aerys had hired. Jon Arryn was an old Hand of the King, but an energetic and intelligent one nevertheless. The King himself was devoted to the welfare of his people, and the strength of the realm. Overall, they made a decent Small Council.

That evening, he had returned to his new chambers above the meeting room of the Small Council to find his daughter Cersei awaiting him. She was the favourite of his three children, as she was the most obedient and hadn't killed her mother, his beloved wife, when being birthed.

"What is it, Cersei?"

"Father, I thought I might put your mind to rest regarding Eddard Stark. He is not as you feared, and has been a faithful, strong and caring husband to me."

Cersei smiled as she awaited Tywin's reply.

"That is good. This alliance between Stark and Lannister shall be most prosperous for all involved. Is his seed within you?"

"Most probably."

"Very good. Your children will be Kings one day."

His daughter's features lightened even more at that prospect.


	5. Eddard II

Ned was slowly stumbling through the stony crypts of Winterfell. Each king he passed laughed hysterically at him, till the crypts rang with the shrill sound of cruel laughter. Rickard Stark, his own father, was guffawing the loudest.

"You have no place here. You are a Southerner now. You have no place in our halls."

His father spoke in hard and stony tones, staring down at him blankly. Suddenly, the entire ceiling of the hallway began collapsing, and he was soon crushed. Ned screamed as his life was slowly crushed out of him as his proud ancestors jested and chortled wildly.

Ned woke, panting and sweaty. Cersei still lay close to him, naked and dazzlingly beautiful. He cupped one of her symmetrical breasts and kissed it. He had already gone hard at the sight of her, and desperately wanted to enter her again. Although she was cold and pale, it was warm and pleasant inside her. He had fought and won a rebellion against the Dragonlords, yet he never felt so alive as he did on that night a few days ago.

As he gazed at her absolutely perfect face, her emerald-green eyes swiftly shot open. Ned recoiled in shock. Cersei grinned at him, warmth filling her great jade pools of eyes.

"Did I startle you, Ned?"

She whispered in low tones, her voice as sweet as honey.

"I had a bad dream, is all."

"Then perhaps I could alleviate your discomfort?"

"How so?"

Before he could think, Ned found his erect cock in Cersei's mouth.

'She is as sly as a snake.'

He did not resist her, burying his hands in her shimmering hair. As she withdrew for a breath, she peered up at him, smirking wickedly.

"Is my King pleased with my service?"

Without waiting for an answer, she dove back on him, sucking and licking at his large cock. Withdrawing again, she purred once more.

"I want to taste your seed. Let it out!"

Cersei took him until she had his cock touching the rear of her mouth. Unexpectedly, he reached his climax and sprayed his seed through her delicate mouth. Like a cat, she lapped it up greedily before returning to Ned's side.

"Have your worries subsided, dear Ned?"

She was still cooing and purring when he found sleep, dreaming lustily of Cersei, sunlight glowing through her hair, in his arms, seducing him all too easily as always.

The next morning, he awoke and probed about the opposite side of his silken bed, searching for Cersei. Opening his eyes, he found to his dismay that she was gone. He pushed aside the curtains of the royal bed to find his lavish chambers empty.

"Cersei!"

He called out multiple times, but to no avail. He received no answer but the sound of the wind blowing through an open window.

Then, Ned heard the door open.

"Ned?"

Cersei's voice sounded tentative and nervous, and for once she wasn't a bold Lioness.

He turned around to see Cersei, garbed in a sapphire-blue dress, clutching Jon.

'Damn the gods! Why hadn't I told her about Jon?'

Ned's cold and grim face turned as red as a beetroot


	6. Petyr I

Petyr Baelish quietly entered the his brothel, flanked by his two disguised co-conspirators. He spotted his target, the Targaryen loyalist, speaking to a man in hushed tones in a stall to the rear of the establishment.

'He suspects nothing, this will be easy.'

This man, Brander Thenn, was the sole reason his trading convoy to Braavos had been sabotaged. He was the one responsible for the sudden disappearance of his caravans to Lannisport. And, if the eunuch could be believed, this man was plotting with the Targaryen boy, Viserys.

Petyr fingered the hilt of his longsword, hidden beneath a thick robe. They inched towards the man, blending in with the drunken crowd as to avoid suspicion. They finally reached the man, avoiding detection. Baelish paced forward to confront him, producing a crumpled parchment.

"Brander Thenn, by the order of His Majesty King Eddard, you are to come with us."

The tavern patrons were gathered around a particularly comely whore, and paid them no attention.

His companions, Rendal Cox and Culler Haerd, both sergeants in the City Watch, pulled Brander off the table roughly, ignoring his feeble protests. Petyr led them into a rundown alleyway that ran off the Street of Silk through the back-entrance of his whorehouse. Cox and Haerd pinned Thenn down to a hard brick wall as he casually approached the squirming loyalist.

"What is the meaning of this?"

He rasped feebly, Petyr giving less notice to his question than he would a fly.

'It is time.'

Baelish drew his engraved blade and pressed it to Brander's throat.

"What have you told Viserys Targaryen?"

Thenn gave him an icy yet dangerous glare as a reply. Suddenly, the loyalist moved as swiftly as a viper, kicking Cox viciously before dodging Petyr's thrust. The Watch Sergeant fell to the ground, clutching his genitals. Before Baelish could even strike at the criminal again, he was bolting down the alley. As Petyr turned to pursue him, he had vanished into the noisy crowds of the Street of Silk.

'Seven bloody hells!'

The next morning Baelish entered the Meeting Hall of the Small Council as if he had completed his mission flawlessly. He smiled and jested with everyone as they entered the hall, curiously, the Stark King wasn't present this morning. As they sat down and a pair of attendants handed them each a goblet of Dornish wine, the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn stared at him with one of his utterly chilly expressions.

"Lord Baelish. I trust that you have completed your task successfully?"

Petyr grinned proudly.

"Lord Arryn, I have subtly disposed of the filthy traitor. He admitted to only telling the Targaryen boy of defences of the southern walls."

"Very good, Lord Baelish. I will arrange for Janos Slynt to redeploy the Gold Cloaks on the River Wall."

The image of a fat, balding man came to mind as the King mentioned Janos Slynt. Baelish had checked countless records and logbooks, was sure that only bribes could account for the anomalies in Slynt's incomes.

"And might I ask why King Eddard is not present this morning?"

"His Highness is indisposed."

Arryn sounded convincing enough, but as a master liar, Baelish could easily detect any normal falsehoods. He knew that the King wasn't really unwell, but Petyr dismissed any suspicions he harboured instantly. Who was he to question his King?


	7. Eddard III

"Cersei, I ought to have told you about this when we were first wed. I have fathered a bastard. I was a different man then, not one of duty or honour, but a man of lust and greed."

Eddard knew that his explanation was incredibly feeble. Cersei's dazzling jade eyes contemplated and judged his every word. He could have easily claimed that Jon belonged to Brandon, as she wouldn't hold a grudge against a dead man.

'I am a Stark of Winterfell, and I won't dishonour Brandon, even if neither of us are truly at fault.'

Jon was gurgling and observing his tiny hands grasp the air. Cersei gazed at him with an expression of disdain. Finding his courage, Ned continued on.

"I know that there is no way to repent for this, but I pray to the Gods, Old and New, that you could still accept me, despite my sins."

She shifted her stare to his sorry face, before defiantly striding out of the room, skirts swirling, leaving Jon on an oaken tabletop.

'If only she would understand.'

Ned angrily scooped Jon into his thick arms before slowly walking towards the God's Wood. However, he was intercepted mid-journey by an energetic attendant.

"Sire, you are requested at a meeting of the Small Council by Lord Arryn."

"Tell Lord Arryn that I am indisposed and not to be disturbed."

The attendant scurried off, not even pausing to question his King's orders.

The Heart-Tree's melancholy, withered face stared him down as he approached the abandoned God's Wood. He knelt before it with Jon, staring up at it's uncaring face.

'May the Old Gods give me the gift of courage, give Jon the gift of protection, and give Cersei the gift of understanding.'

Ned drew a handful of water from the hot-pool and splashed it across his face to punctuate his prayer.

Ned spent the rest of the morning sitting by the Heart Tree, silently sifting through his many woes. As he looked down into the bubbling pool, all he could see was Cersei. Her look of hate as she strode out their chamber, and he could almost hear the sorry sound of her receding footsteps on the Myrish carpets in the hallway.

'I have to make amends.'

Hours later, he found Cersei kneeling in the Royal Sept of the Red Keep. Arys Oakheart stepped aside from the entrance and solemnly bowed as he passed. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned to him, her green eyes full of grief. A solitary tear adorned her left cheek.

"Ned, I was far too rash this morning. Would you forgive me?"

His face lit up at her words. He moved to take her in his arms.

"Sweet Cersei, you have done nothing to be forgiven of."

He leaned in to kiss her, and for the first time, she leaned towards him as well. They came together, clutching each other in warm embrace.


	8. Marvion I

Marvion Waters leaned as far left as his body would permit him, just dodging Banneth's blunt practice blade. He then swiftly moved his longsword to glance another of his opponent's blow away. Taking the initiative, Marvion struck at an obscure angle, catching Banneth off-guard. The blow struck the pommel of Banneth's weapon, sending it careening in a graceful arc before landing unceremoniously in the sand of the sparring yard.

The two boys laughed and slapped each other in the back. It seemed that Banneth Harroway, the son of a minor noble, was the only person other than his Lord who would even look at Marvion, the bastard of some Lord who required company one night. That wasn't to say that Marvion was unpleasant to look upon, in fact, his bright blonde hair and lively light blue eyes would have caught the gazes of many a maiden, if he wasn't a Waters.

Sighing, he made his way to the Maegor's Holdfast, leaving Banneth to store their weapons as the looser of the bout. He had no doubt that Lord Baelish would reprimand him for being late to duty, as always. At least Petyr Baelish had actually accepted him into his service, and hadn't spat in his face when he offered it. Baelish was born a man of modest means himself, so he supposed he took pity on him in a way.

Arriving in the Chambers of the Master of Coin, he found Baelish bent over a gigantic tome of accounts and debts. His lord looked up from the worn book as he approached.

"Ah, Marvion. Late again, as per normal. I suppose it is good that you haven't changed. I might start worrying for your health if you turned up punctually one day."

Petyr turned back to his ledger, paying Waters almost no attention.

He quickly set to work, changing floor-rushes and dusting the exquisite Volantine and Braavosi carpets and cushions that littered Baelish's rooms. Marvion darted down to the cellars to fetch another two flagons of fine wine and a jug of mead, restocking his lord's mahogany sideboards. Content with the state of the room, Waters meandered to the kitchens, collecting a tray of roast chicken marinated with spicy Dornish peppers. Baelish would often contemplate his account books into the early hours of the morning, and thus require all meals to be brought to him.

As his lord nodded, accepting the food and dismissing him in one simple, short gesture, Marvion moved to a covered bridge. The Red Keep's many impressive towers were linked by multiple covered bridges, and he loved the last rays of the evening sun highlighting his face as he stared at the courtyards below. As he looked far below, he say the sun stunningly illuminate the colourful windows of the Royal Sept. As he gazed at the picturesque Sept, he noticed the King and Queen emerge from it's grand doors, hand in hand.

They made a picturesque sight as well. The burly, muscular and handsome King with his delicate, pale and beautiful Queen. Marvion shifted his stare past the couple and out into the city, where the Great Sept of Baelor's Seven Holy Bells were ringing in turn to thank each God for a successful day. The wind blew through his hair, and the sun was on his face. Despite everything, he felt happy.


	9. Cersei III

Author's Note:

Yes, this is a republish of the chapter. I decided that the former Chapter 9 didn't make any sense. As an inexperienced writer I still have much to learn. Please enjoy!

The King lay entirely asleep, motionless, while Cersei lay awake, contemplating the day's events. Ned had fallen for her so easily in the Sept.

'That great honourable fool will believe anything I tell him.'

It was easy enough for her to feign a distraught expression and let a tear decorate her cheek. Perhaps Ned would be easier to manipulate than she would have once thought. Cersei had already convinced him to elect her lord-father to a position on the Small Council, and would soon set other plots in motion.

Another matter kept her from sleeping on this chilly night, Jaime. He was standing guard outside the door in his shimmering golden armour and bone-white cloak. Cersei was excitedly awaiting the moment that her twin would open the great mahogany door and lead her off to some abandoned chamber.

'When he enters me, I will tell him that I only have eyes for him, and still love him dearly.'

Perhaps almost an hour later, the door hadn't slowly creaked open, and she heard no soft, graceful footsteps by her bed.

'Jaime was always known to be rash and hot-headed, why was he stalling?'

Ned was still soundly asleep, oblivious to the fact that his bride was about to be stolen from him. Cersei still had feelings for him, her husband and king, and had been attempting to suppress them ever since she had first seen him.

Finally, she heard the door slowly slide open. A tall shadow moved beyond the curtains of the bed. The silks parted to reveal her handsome Jaime, staring down at her nakedness with a grin on his face. She gracefully slid from the bed, as stealthy as a cat. The twins kissed in silence, as they had done for many long years. Jaime silently but eagerly led her from the royal chamber and slowly closed it's grand door.

Jaime escorted her cautiously to an abandoned servant's cell in the left annex of Maegor's Hold-Fast. As they entered via a creaking, withered door, they took each other in their arms again. Cersei found comfort in her beloved twins muscular but kind arms, and they embraced lovingly. She sat on the rotten set of mats that some maid must have once slept on, patiently waiting as her twin unlaced his white britches.

He entered her tenderly as they kissed, clutching one another close. Cersei moved to whisper in her lover's ear.

"Sweet Jaime, I have only ever loved you. I want you inside me, not Eddard Stark."

She moaned softly, as Jaime's hands gingerly buried themselves in her golden hair. Cersei closed her eyes, and let out a deep groan.

It felt so good to wash away all her sorrows and grief and sadness. So good to have Jaime in her. She regretted nothing in these moments, she felt so pure, so cleansed. As usual, Jaime withdrew from her as he reached his climax, burying his face in her firm breasts as he spilled his seed on to her belly eagerly. When it was done, she returned to her chambers and clambered onto the feather bed.

Cersei awoke drowsily to find Ned next to her, his eyes digging deep pits into her face. She looked about, familiarising herself with her lavish surroundings. Memories of the previous night came flooding back to her. The warm, pleasant feeling she experienced as her twin came into her came to mind immediately. She was quick to suppress a smile that threatened to touch her lips.

'I will have to keep Ned satisfied if I am to continue with Jaime.'

"Cersei. I shall hold court today. A large number of petitioners wish to come before the court."

Ned's voice was firm yet gentle in it's own way.

"I am sure that their just King shall not disappoint them then."

She leant in to lightly kiss Ned on the cheek.

Hours later, the court was fully assembled. Cersei sat in the cushioned seat to the left of the Iron Throne, looking down at the hundreds of noblemen before her. This wasn't one of her giddy childhood fantasies. She was the queen.


	10. Eddard IV

Author's Note:

Sorry for the immense delay between chapters! I have had an incredibly busy weeka and have simply not been satisfied by the content I was able to produce in my limited spare time. Chapter 9 has been republished as I decided that it made no sense and was too convenient towards the plot. Please read the new version before continuing. Thank you all so much for your continued support. As a new writer I am utterly shocked at the overwhelmingly positive response I have received.

The afternoon air was cool and pleasant as the royal party ride down the Kingsroad. Storm's End could be seen in the distance, a small stone speck on a cliffside far away Eddard intended to visit the ancient keep of the Stormlords to restore friendly relations and settle a border dispute between the Stormlands and the Reach. The lands were quiet and deserted, and had not yet recovered from the war, as the occasional burnt farmhouse proved testament to.

Nine months ago, when the Tyrell host moved to besiege Storm's End, they burned half of the Stormlands to attempt to convince stubborn Stannis Baratheon to surrender the castle. His garrison ate their horses and the castle rats before they were prepared to surrender, and were saved by a rear attack from his forces just in time. Cersei rode up beside him on her white palfrey. He had offered her a carriage for the journey, but she had refused graciously.

"It is a pleasant day, is it not?"

"Well enough. The sooner we arrive at Storm's End, the better."

As they approached the towering walls and squat stone round-towers of Storm's End, a party of men in gold and black cloaks trotted out to meet them. At head the column was Renly Baratheon. He was incredibly young, with fair complexion and a shining mop of sleek black hair.

"Good day to you, your highness. We have been expecting you."

"It is a pleasure to see you once more, Lord Renly."

Renly turned to Cersei, smiling warmly.

"Good day to you, your grace."

He reached out and kissed each of her fingers in a slow and deliberate manner. Cersei only stared at him somewhat awkwardly.

"You no doubt know of the matters that I have come to speak of. We should begin our talks as soon as possible."

"Very well, your highness. Follow me!"

Renly lead the royal party through the massive stone gate of Storm's End, exchanging idle chatter with both his men and the King.

The great hall of the Baratheon keep was lined with rich tapestries depicting scenes of Nymeria's conquest of Westeros and the Dance of the Dragons. Above the throne at the rear of the hall flew a banner of a mighty sable stag majestically prancing on a field of pure gold. Mace Tyrell sat on a bench to the left of the throne, and rose to bow as he and Renly entered the hall. Ned's entourage had been sent to their temporary quarters, leaving him to settle this dispute alone.

"Your highness, we are greatly honoured by your immaculate presence."

Mace Tyrell may have had as much political sense as a fish, but he certainly had a way with words.

Renly ushered them to a small oaken round table as servants brought in cups of sour red wine from the Arbor. Ned began as they departed, addressing the Lords.

"My lords, it has come to my attention that you have required my presence to present a solution to a pressing matter, what might the nature of is matter be?"

Renly seized the chance to speak first.

"Your highness, it appears that the Tyrells have seen fit to lay a claim to the village of Stormhallow, a key holding of my loyal bannermen of House Gower."

"This is folly. Stormhallow has been a territory of my bannermen of House Ashford for over a hundred years."

Mace Tyrell sipped his wine in defiance, not going to give into the young Renly without a decent struggle.

The debate lasted for many long hours, before finally being adjourned by Renly's insistence that they should eat and continue discussions on the morrow. Mace, who had the upper hand in the argument after an old map was found indicating that the border village did indeed belong to House Ashford as he had claimed, was reluctant to pause discussions until the morrow, but was eventually won over. After all, the moon was already high in the dark sky by the time their talks had concluded for the day.

They supped on suckling pig and roast chickens in almost complete silence. Stormlands nobles occasionally exchanged courteous remarks but generally the feast concluded in a sullen and melancholy atmosphere. Having ridden for an entire day and talked late into the evening, Ned was incredibly weary.

"My Lords, I think it will be best if I retire for the night. I have ridden for the greater part of a day and wish to rest."

The nobles wished their king a polite farewell, returning to their cups.

He and Cersei strode to the royal chamber of Storm's End. Each great keep was supposed to maintain a royal chamber in case it was to be visited by royalty. Ned had suspected that most of them hadn't been cleaned or used for years, but was pleasantly surprised when opened the great door of his chamber, ushering his queen inside. The slightly airy room was furnished with rich Myrish carpets and ornate and colourful tapestries. A set of scented candles burned on a small sideboard at the rear of the large room.

Cersei undid the fine laces of her bodice, slipping her rich dress off and revealing her dazzling nakedness. Her perfect, subtle curves and the golden shrub between her legs. Ned felt himself growing uncomfortably hard.

'I have not had her properly since the night we were wed. But it would not be proper to bed her here as a guest.'

He slipped off his silken tunic and unlaced his britches, praying to the Old Gods that the dimness of the room would mask his stiff cock.

The two climbed onto the feather bed, welcoming its comfort after a long day's journey. Ned closed his cold grey eyes, prepared to let sleep take him. A few moments later, he felt Cersei's delicate hand fondling his cock, squeezing it passionately. He lazily threw out a hand to swat her's aside, but generally didn't resist her. She was whispering something endearing in his ear as well, but he was far too tired to even begin to comprehend what she was saying. He found sleep eventually, savouring the feeling in his cock.


	11. Cersei IV

Author's Note:

Thank you for the continued support! Once more, apologies for the slow posting time. I will aim to produce longer chapters more frequently. All your feedback and criticisms are most appreciated!

Heavy rain pounded and crashed vigorously against the thick stone walls of Storm's End. Thunder roared in the far distance, further adding to the din. Cersei sat in the Royal Chamber, wine goblet in hand, staring out across the bay. Moonlight gracefully glinted across it's black waters, streaks of white in a sea of sable. Ned was in the Keep's cavernous Map Room, attempting to resolve some border conflict. And thus, she sat on a worn bench, idle, contemplating. She drew her crimson cloak tighter around her figure as the wind howled through the airy room.

'Aye. Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear.'

Cersei shuddered, recalling the old prophetess she had encountered in the woods. Warts covered her face, and her crusty yellow eyes seemed to tear out your very soul.

'And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you.'

The valonqar. The little brother. Tyrion. He was only a stunted, mischievous monster of a boy, only eleven years of age. Could he even dream of killing her, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? Cersei took a long swallow of wine, before spitting in defiance of fate. She should have never given her blood to that unwashed hag. She should have never taken that ugly knife and slit her palm. She slammed her goblet onto the bench in anger.

Cersei swivelled around as the chamber door creaked open. Ned strode in, smiling warmly, his grey eyes welcoming and soft.

"Cersei, would you like to visit Highgarden?"

For a moment she was at a loss for words. As a girl she had heard tales of Highgarden, it's towering Sept, constructed pure marble inlaid with gold, and it's Keep of Golden Roses.

"Since I was but nine years of age, I have dreamed of Highgarden, I could not ask for anything more in the world than to set my eyes upon it."

She grinned enthusiastically, offering her husband a glass of wine.

They set off at dawn the next morning, making good time across the lush pine forests of the Stormlands. Mace Tyrell rode alongside Ned, exchanging jests and praising his good judgement. Stormhallow had indeed been royally recognised as a territory of House Ashford, and they would make for the town first before journeying through the Reach. Cersei preferred to ride alone, inhaling the cold but refreshing morning air and enjoying the wind billowing through her rich hair. She found herself deep in thought once more.

'Oh, aye. Six and ten for him and three for you. Gold will be their crowns and gold will be their shrouds.' The fortune teller spat out a sickly glob of phlegm, revealing her toothless mouth.

'Sixteen for Ned and three for me? He has but one bastard son.'

This was not the first time Cersei had thought of her husband's bastard. She had seen his likeness before, and realised it was in Rhaegar Targaryen. She had first seen him at the tournament in Lannisport, at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion. She remembered his dashing silvery white hair and easy smiles, his melancholy purple eyes that you could drown in. She had become infatuated with him, and would do anything to earn a smile or chuckle from him. But alas, he was killed by Robert Baratheon at the Battle of the Trident, but not before planting his ornate spear into the would-be king's gut. They both died that day, drowning each other's blood.

Stormhallow itself was an underwhelming affair. It was essentially comprised of a cluster of squat three-room houses, a withering pier, and crumbling parody of a sept. The King of Westeros had personally rode from King's Landing to Storm's End because of this tiny village and it's two hundred inhabitants. The bridge across the stream that flanked the village was rotting away, and looked as if it would collapse beneath the weight of the party of riders that trotted across it. The smallfolk of Stormhallow had assembled in the town square, crowding around a crude, ruined sculpture of some Targaryen, or perhaps even one of the Gardeners, the ancient Kings of Highgarden. Ned rode forward, turning to address an old, soft-spoken man who had identified himself as the local leader.


	12. Author's Note

Author's Note:

I have not given up on this story. I am currently combatting a brief bout of writer's block. Thank you all for your support and reviews once more. I will be able to publish the next chapter relatively soon. I have plenty of new ideas in mind.

Thank you for your patience and support.


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